


First Kiss

by orphan_account



Series: JayTim Valentines Week 2017 [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Mentions of Blood, Nothing in the fic but Jason apparently likes to reminisce, also angst, and some violence, do not expect fluff here, here there be only awkward one-armed hugs, very early on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:33:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It has been a long time since anyone held Jason like this. A long time since he experienced physical contact that was not a fight or a brief exchange of items. Tim’s chest is warm against his own, the weight of his head oddly grounding.JayTim Valentines Week Entry #2: First Kiss (except not really but kinda)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Very late to the party at this point, but that never stopped me before. I have some fun ideas for the following prompts so I'm going to try to finish the event still :)

He staggers up to his the apartment at three in the morning, covered in bruises and scratches. The helmet is gone, detonated at one point in the fight, and one of his guns is broken. His body aches and stings all over, and there is some blood on his jacket that is not his. He has not killed anyone tonight, but he has been violent enough that it got very close. 

Twelve against one is not a fair fight, but Jason gave up on playing fair when he died. All twelve are incapacitated and left as a delivery to the GCPD in the same warehouse where they were having a very cliché meeting in the middle of the night. He has knocked out a few teeth which felt satisfying enough. 

He is acutely aware of the fact that he did not kill anyone. Even with the knowledge that some of them deserved it  - and he did have that  - he could not put any of them out of their misery. It angers and frustrates him, because he has killed before. Killing them was the plan all along, but when he had two of them in easy reach, he ended up aiming for legs instead of more vital parts. Why he could no longer find it in himself to aim a little higher, he does not know. He only knows that it helps to stir the turmoil in his chest. 

He feels this way near constantly. Almost nauseous with anger and aching  _ hurt.  _ It has been this way since the day he lunged out of the pit and without much thought pushed his thumbs through a man’s eyes, illuminated by the sickly green water. Something changed in him then. 

It is not something he can describe, and not something he would care to. An emptiness presses at him from all sides, the feeling of something damaged, or changed, or just gone. Something is fundamentally wrong, which is a good enough explanation for him. 

He unlocks the door with shaking hands. His arms ache with exhaustion. No matter his skill, twelve people are still twelve people. The door closes behind him and he leans back on it, for a few moments just drawing in deep breaths. Adrenaline is ebbing and leaving nothing to show for it but shaking knees and aching muscles. 

He is so caught up in feeling just how still alive he is (though he is unsure how he would define it) that he does not notice the slight sound from inside the apartment at first. He is winded and worn, but once he hears it he goes back to full alert in a split second. His muscles tense, despite the protest of his frazzled nerves. He stops breathing and listens. 

He can hear it from down the hall. The living room. Audible shifting of cloth and leather - someone on the couch - and a soft voice murmuring. There are inaudible words and soft shushes, someone trying to appear calming.

Right. Tim. He must be up, and by the sound of it soothing a baby that is also awake. After a few weeks of staying, it would have been natural for Jason to grow used to the idea, but he still cannot believe that Tim would choose to be in his presence for more than a second. Still, he and the baby have remained in the spare room that Jason made up for them, despite the lifestyle that Tim knows he leads. Jason can understand the decision on some levels, the unsettlingly logical ones. Tim needs to lay low, and someone has to be able to get groceries. At least the bats know that Jason is alive. 

Jason releases the breath he is holding. Tim does not pose a threat. 

He does, however, make it more difficult to get to bed without a fuss. Jason groans quietly. Tim never forces him to talk about it, but they always do anyway. Jason never likes talking about it. It makes him think about it more than he ever wants to. 

Perhaps, he thinks, that is the reason he can no longer hurt people more than it takes. Telling Tim about it when he had killed someone  - during the first weeks of them knowing each other - felt worse than crawling out of the Lazarus Pit. The memory squeezes uncomfortably in his chest. He has knocked out a lot of teeth and shot a lot of kneecaps since then, but in the end they were all breathing. 

He grinds his teeth together, but not hard enough to hurt. Before he walks in, he discards his jacket on the floor by the door. It took the majority of blood splatter tonight, which effectively ruined it. He will not wear a blood-splashed jacket in the presence of a baby. 

Tim is sitting on the couch with his back to the doorway. For a moment, Jason only watches and listens to his calm soothing sounds. Tim is shushing his son, cooing gently when he fusses. Sebastian whines, out of sight to Jason. 

He can tell when Tim notices him. He is impressed, because he was not making any noise, and Tim did not seem to notice him coming into the apartment. That uncanny ability to sense a new presence in the room is something that Bruce did not explicitly teach them, but that they all learned from studying him. Tim’s back straightens a little bit. His head turns, and Jason meets blue eyes with his own. 

Tim looks him up and down, his expression remaining deceptively neutral. Jason knows how he feels about what Jason does at night. He does not, however, judge Jason in the same way others do. He is not afraid like the criminals Jason deals with, or heartbroken like Bruce. He does not even try to talk Jason out of it like Dick does. The rest of the hero community does not know about Jason yet, so those are the only impressions he has yet of how people feel about him being alive again. 

Tim is different. Tim just looks at him with those big blue eyes and Jason feels the judgment bubbling up in him entirely on its own. Tim does not need to say anything, because it puts it into perspective for Jason to have him around. Jason knows what he is doing is not moral, but it is right. He does not have to feel good about it for it to be the right thing. 

“Rough night?” Tim asks, as though Jason has had a difficult night shift at a diner. Jason blinks, huffs a breath that might be a laugh. 

“Kinda,” he says, because he can think of no other way to phrase it. Tim’s expression is pinched, uncomfortable, but sympathetic. 

“Little guy slept for two hours today while I did the laundry, so it’s kind of my fault we’re here.” He looks apologetically at Jason. “I should be able to get him down soon, so we won’t bother you if you want to sleep.”

Jason looks over Tim’s shoulder at the fussy child in his lap. Sebastian glares at him, annoyed at his being awake and unwilling to do anything about it. Jason feels his own expression soften at he looks at Sebastian’s face. 

Tim is looking at Sebastian too, his back once again to Jason. 

“I don’t need to know what happened,” he says. “It doesn’t matter.”

On some level, though, it kind of does. 

“Everyone’s alive, if you’re wondering.”

He looks to the side as he says it. His tone is nonchalant, detached. As though it does not matter what Tim thinks, despite it being the whole reason he said it. 

Tim does not visibly react. He rocks Sebastian gently back and forth. It takes a long moment before he speaks. 

“Would you like to sit with us for a bit?” It is a casual request, far too intimate for the fragile not-friendship the two of them have cultivated until now. Even so, it feels oddly natural. Jason can recognise in Tim the methods which all the bats use to keep people simultaneously very close and also at arm’s length. Bruce and his family have an uncanny ability to take friends, lovers, family, to themselves and all the while not let them in at all. 

Jason can accept that. He does not plan on letting Tim particularly close either. 

He walks past the sofa and sits down on a chair that faces it. He does not say anything, so Tim speaks again.  ****

“I know you’re not doing it for me,” Tim says, eyes on the floor. “But I appreciate it. Thank you.”

Jason’s eyes remain firmly on the far wall’s window. From this angle  he can only see the dark sky outside. The stars are not visible. Gotham has too much light pollution. 

“Are you thanking me for doing the most basic moral thing a human can do?”

It does not have to be moral for it to be right. 

Tim smiles slightly, sadly. “I suppose so. Then again, we’re in Gotham.”

It is sad how right he is. Jason shakes his head in amusement. 

Sebastian is beginning to quiet down, fussing only slightly as Tim strokes a hand over his forehead. Tim looks at his son so tenderly that it makes Jason feel like he is intruding. From what he has seen, Tim is not openly emotional the way Dick is. It is only ever when he is holding his son that Jason gets to see it. 

On some level, he wishes he had never seen it. He has a creeping suspicion that he is getting attached to these two. A most inconvenient development. 

It takes Jason a moment to realise that Sebastian has in fact fallen asleep. The silence lies heavy over the two of them as they wait to confirm it, both staring at the baby apprehensively. Tim secures him in his grip and moves to stand up slowly. 

“That should be good,” he says in a low tone. Jason’s eyes dart back to the window for a moment. His eyes meet Tim’s. He sees indecision, wonders why it is there.

Tim opens his mouth, thinks for a moment. 

“You’re completely free to say no to this, and I would understand why,” he shifts uneasily in place, “but would you mind if I hugged you before we go?”

Jason frowns at him. The suggestion confuses him because he cannot think of a logical explanation to it. No underlying benefit which Tim could stand to gain from it. He is suddenly very aware of just how much dirt and grime clings to him. 

He shifts in the chair. Tim waits patiently. He looks at Jason with those soft blue eyes. 

Jason shrugs. “Why not?”

It is an awkward affair. Tim moves a little closer, hesitantly, as Jason moves to stand up. The two of them stand there for a few moments, just looking at each other uncertainly. Tim makes an aborted motion just as Jason moves a little bit. Jason clears his throat and Tim smiles just slightly. 

Jason stands rigidly still. He feels like he has fallen into another dimension. Tim slides a gentle arm around him, squeezes carefully. His head comes to rest on Jason’s clavicle. The whole time, he balances Sebastian carefully on the other arm, out of the embrace so that he will not wake up. 

It has been a long time since anyone held Jason like this. A long time since he experienced physical contact that was not a fight or a brief exchange of items. Tim’s chest is warm against his own, the weight of his head oddly grounding. 

Jason looks down at Sebastian’s face. He looks peaceful, nestled in the crook of his father’s arm. Innocent. Everything they all work to protect, heroes and whatever it is Jason has turned into. This is what they protect. 

He does not think. His hand comes up to encircle Tim’s neck, pull him gently closer. He turns his head and puts his lips to Tim’s temple, closes his eyes. Tim’s breath hitches slightly, but he does not tense. Sebastian obliviously snoozes on. 

When he comes to his senses, Jason feels awkward and unsure. He lets go of Tim and takes a careful step back, giving Tim ample time to adjust to the change and keep from jostling the baby. They face each other. The silence presses on his ears. 

Tim clears his throat, a soft sound. He bring up his other arm to support the baby from below, holding him more properly. 

“I should go put him down,” he says, and clears his throat again at the end of the sentence. His eyes flit from Jason to the couch and the window behind Jason. He turns on his heel to walk away. 

“Good night,” he says, hesitating. Jason clears his throat too. 

“Yeah, sure,” he stutters. “Sleep well.”

Tim huffs a slight laugh. “I hope so. Here’s to hoping this one stays down this time.”

Jason feels himself smile. It is mostly sympathetic, a little amused. It feels odd, like like trying to stretch an atrophied muscle. He is unused to it. 

Tim walks out of the room and Jason listens for the click of his door closing behind him down the hall. Once he hears it, he sighs through his nose. 

He runs a hand down his face, running the scenario through his head over and over. He laments the stupidity of what he just did, as well as the fact that his heart and mind have both calmed significantly. That was a very bad thing to do. 

He feels how the exhaustion sets in once more. 

He should really get some sleep. 


End file.
